


Acadian Ideals

by Mothtrap



Category: Fallout - Fandom, Fallout 4
Genre: Budding Love, Explicit Consent, Light Masochism, M/M, NO DICKS, Orgasm, Pain, Pre-Relationship, Pseudo-Incest, Robot Sex, Wire Play, light fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 19:16:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7235188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mothtrap/pseuds/Mothtrap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick and DiMA have been enjoying each others' company a lot in the last couple of weeks. Nick is hesitant to confess a more embarrassing desire. However, DiMA is eager to oblige.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Acadian Ideals

**Author's Note:**

> Pseudo-incest warning, also incest teasing (even if I don't hc it as real incest). But yeah, avoid if you're sensitive to such content. This fic also features no-dick synths, it's all in the wire play and general touchy feely, dude.

Nick rubbed his forehead, whisking away non-existent sweat as he tightened the last few bolts on the array. He placed down the spanner; the heavy metal object clattering on the cold floor and the sound reverberating around the wide open space.  
  
He stood up, inspecting the work he had done, until behind him, he heard approaching footsteps.  
  
“You’ve done great work today, Nick.” DiMA’s quiet, understated voice sounded. Nick turned around, a small smile playing around his lips.  
  
“No problem. I’m just happy I can make myself useful.” He grabbed a rag from the tool box and started to wipe the black grease off his fingers, which only caused it to spread around further. He chuckled and shook his head, being used to being the dirty synth he was, but this really took the cake.  
  
“Looks like you’ll need some soap.” DiMA smiled “luckily for you, third generation synths sweat like humans do, so there is plenty to go around in the showers downstairs.”  
  
Nick tugged at his rolled up shirt sleeves, a glint of amusement in his eyes “Do I look like I take showers?”  
  
DiMA chortled, shaking his head slowly, the multitude of wires bending smoothly along his movements “Well, good job on those relays anyway. I’m sure you squeezed quite a bit more life out of them.”  
  
“Right.” the other synth started packing away the tools neatly, closing the box when he was done. “I could go for a smoke right about now. Atticus won’t be back until the evening, so I have some time to kill.”  
  
“Spend it with me. I could use the company.”  
  
Nick eyed him curiously “You had a busy day too?”  
  
“Yes. Lots of matters that need arranging. Honestly, it’s a normal day in Acadia for me.” DiMA said wearily “I… wouldn’t mind spending some time with someone I can really talk to… you know?”  
  
Nick knew what DiMA meant. They’d spent several weeks getting to know each other, and he himself had noticed how their conversations had been intensely mentally stimulating for the two of them. Both synths enjoying talking about _what it was like_ being what they were. The only other individual that would truly understand the other.  
  
And of course there had been… other things… too. Nick tried not to think about it, tried not to remember, lest the churning sensation in his gut make him feel dizzy. It hadn’t been bad… quite the opposite, in fact. But Nick still wasn’t sure _what to make of it_ , and how it defined his relationship with DiMA.  
  
So, for for the first time in his life, he tried not to worry about the future, and just let things happen naturally, following that honed detective instinct.  
  
He followed DiMA down the stairs, into the belly of the observatory. Nick could feel his hands sticking to the bannisters, fingers still covered in grease.  
  
“I uh, might have to take that shower anyway.” he said awkwardly, noticing the traces he was leaving.  
  
“Of course.”  
  
A few minutes later, Nick was in the tiled communal shower, alone. It was a strange feeling entering a bathroom with the intent of actually using it. In the last hundred years and especially the last few months following Atticus around, he had walked through these places merely to scavenge pre-war materials. Nick stripped down his smudged clothing, idly wondering if he should tip the laundry people generously for taking the stains out, _again_ .  
  
He tentatively stood under one of the shower heads, his fingers on the knob. The water was, surprisingly, warm. Even though he immediately felt the water sloshing into him through the holes in his plating, the sealants around his most vital parts held up easily. The fact that the synths of Acadia had managed to create _warm running water_ here was amazing.  
  
He didn’t waste time and started scrubbing himself down, trying not to think about the fact that this was literally his first proper shower since waking up as a synth. The only washes he normally got were standing out in the rain, and both Ellie and Atticus had often complained about his smudged face and body. But he didn’t care.  
  
Ten minutes later he tried his best shaking the water out of himself, having learned which ways to angle his limbs to do so most effectively.  
  
He tentatively grabbed one of the many towels from the stacks on shelves around the room. He didn’t exactly rub himself dry, scared to smudge the fabric with the remaining dirt. Instead, he wrapped it around his middle and bundled up his dirty clothes in front of his chest.  
  
Somewhat awkwardly, he dropped them off by the synths busying themselves with the laundry, grinning stupidly as they tutted about the state of them.  
  
“Do you have, uh, some clothes for me to lend?” Nick said, feeling exposed. A stupid human emotion, he realized.  
  
The man rolled his eyes and handed him a bathrobe off one of the hooks. “Here, wear this and come back in a few hours. We’ll have your clothes cleaned.”  
  
Nick thanked him and threw the robe over himself, tying a knot in front.  
  
He sauntered back to his room: the room he had been given for his temporary stay in Acadia. As he entered and closed the door behind him, he heard a book snap shut. He whirled around.  
  
“You look… clean.” DiMA said, a smirk on his lips. The synth had a pre-war book in his lap: poetry. The place wasn’t much, but it was cosier than the dome DiMA normally occupied. There was a small writing desk, a dresser, a few lamps, a bed and an arm chair, in which the old synth was sat.  
  
“It was certainly a strange experience.” Nick commented, picking his hat off the desk, where he had left it, and running the brim through his fingers.  
  
“That bathrobe suits you,” DiMA joked.  
  
“Why, thanks!” he curtsied, and both synths laughed in unison.  
  
“In all seriousness though,” DiMA continued, his expression darkening slightly “I reckon it would look better on the floor.”  
  
Nick could feel a sudden burning in his chest at those words; the fire that had been there for weeks suddenly flaring up, making itself known. He stopped twiddling his hat, staring right into DiMA’s icy blue eyes. He stared back, a flicker of amusement there.  
  
“Oh, I see how it is.” Nick’s voice was low, gravelly. He placed his hat back on the desk, but didn’t move an inch, his limbs suddenly turned to stone.  
  
“Still nervous?” DiMA said lazily, getting up from the chair and approaching him. The fire burned more fiercely, threatening to overcome Nick.  
  
“You wish.” Nick said, gnashing his teeth briefly. “Though I did think you really just wanted to… talk… today.”  
  
“I can do many things at once,” DiMA said languidly, getting almost too close for comfort. “One of the many perks of having a processor instead of a _real_ brain.”  
  
Nick involuntarily swallowed, inwardly cursing his all-too-human reactions. This hadn’t slipped DiMA.  
  
“I’m still not entirely sure how...” Nick started, taking a step back. “How I feel about this.”  
  
The other synth stopped, smiling gently at him “If you don’t want to, that’s fine too.”  
  
“N-no, that’s not it.” he responded, hating the fact he _was_ feeling so nervous. Where was that normally confident exterior when you needed it?  
  
DiMA placed his less damaged hand on Nick’s upper arm, and he responded in kind, his fingers curling between the mess of wires and tubes. Both against his better judgement and subconsciously, he pulled slightly, inviting the older synth to come even closer.  
  
DiMA almost lost his balance, catching himself against the wall with his other hand, his face inches away from Nick’s. The fire in his gut had turned to lava now, roiling and bubbling just below the surface, a pleasurable heat pooling around his hips as he fleetingly imagined the possibilities.  
  
His brain fuzzy, unable to think straight, his other hand curled around DiMA’s neck, hot fingers on cool steel. A few agonizing seconds later, Nick’s intense desire was finally answered with the synth’s lips against his own, pressing firmly, the back of his head pressing into the wall.  
  
It wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t exactly warm either. Nick relaxed in DiMA’s grip, his fingers tracing his components as they kissed, the softness being the main reason he kept coming back for more. Imagining his touch the main reason distracting him at night. The way he had proven he could make Nick feel the main reason he had been dropping his tools all day.  
  
Every time still felt like the first, exhilarating, a powerful longing compelling both synths to spend evening after evening just like this.  
  
DiMA broke the kiss first, his eyes half lidded and his breath hot and heavy. Nick knew _DiMA_ had even less prerogative to behave like a human being, yet he had these peculiar quirks, a remnant of the Institute’s experiments on them.  
  
DiMA gently placed his forehead against his, metal fingers tracing the curves of his body. He had to try his hardest not to shiver as the cool metal slipped beneath the front of his bathrobe, taking the thing off effortlessly. At the sound of the fabric hitting the floor, Nick opened his eyes again.  
  
“DiMA,” he croaked, letting his head roll back against the wall.  
  
“Hm?” The other synth hummed, his eyes gleaming with lust, staring almost hungrily at Nick’s exposed neck.  
  
“I… I want… I’d like... something a bit different this time.”  
  
DiMA’s eyes shot up to meet his, obviously curious.  
  
“I.. hmm.” Nick said, his confidence wavering. He wished he hadn’t said anything. But DiMA simply smiled, recognizing his slight discomfort. He pulled back and lead Nick to the bed across the room. A gentle yet firm hand against his chest made him lie down, his body nestling comfortably amidst the pillows and sheets. DiMA kneeled up, looking down at him with lidded eyes and fingers tracing Nick’s waist.  
  
“I’ll do anything for you if it makes you feel good,” DiMA said warmly, leaning in closer and placing his hands besides Nick’s shoulders.  
  
“Well, I...” Nick started again, trying his best not to swallow “Maybe I want you to… uh… you know.” he gulped, then cursed himself again.  
  
“I don’t know what I should know.” DiMA chuckled, brushing his cheek against Nick’s, his breath hot against his ear. “But if it makes you shy like this I can only imagine.”  
  
Nick groaned, the heat against his sensitive neck overwhelming. DiMA’s hand came up to cradle his other cheek, fingers delicately stroking behind the ear, knowing just where the human mind’s erogenous zones were linked up to his synthetic body. The reactions this coaxed from Nick were obviously pleasing to DiMA, who didn’t stop.  
  
“So tell me. What deep dark desire do you want fulfilled?” he whispered bluntly.  
  
“I don’t know,” Nick’s voice was strained, trying not to moan as the sensations built “I… ah…” he shivered “The last couple of times you’ve come very close to… to hurting me. N-not on purpose.” he added those last few words hastily.  
  
“Oh, I see.” DiMA said, leaning back up a little, staring into Nick’s anxious yellow gaze. A smirk played around his lips. “Those instances made you think… haven’t they?”  
  
Nick nodded almost imperceptibly, terrified to admit to it, but DiMA seemed unabashed. Without another word, he shifted his position. Nick moved his arms up over his head, almost hiding underneath them as he watched DiMA move between his legs, his hips pressed up against Nick’s. That touch shot a dagger of heat right up Nick’s spine, before the sensation trickled down into his gut, adding to the fire.  
  
He tilted his hips ever so slightly, his legs bent up to allow DiMA close to him. He managed to overcome his embarrassment just enough to reach out and wrap his arms around his back, carefully avoiding the many connectors lining the synth’s spine. The skin there was just like his own, tough and dry, yet pliable enough to be possibly mistaken for real. If you were drunk. And blindfolded.  
  
DiMA let himself collapse into his embrace, fingers still maddeningly teasing every inch of his curves, tips digging into the creases of his skin panels, where he _knew_ Nick was more sensitive.  
  
Nick tried stifling his quiet cries, but got some much needed help as DiMA kissed him once more, lips now wet with a buildup of saliva. Nick felt his coolant pump increasing its output as he returned the gesture, lifting his head off the pillow ever so slightly in an attempt to create more friction. But the other synth pushed him back decisively, one hand curling around his neck, thumb across his throat.  
  
Nick briefly protested in surprise, making noises before DiMA broke away. He look down at him as Nick’s chest heaved with shallow breaths.  
  
“You’re not uncomfortable, are you?” he said, slight concern in his voice.  
  
“No… no...” Nick said between his panting “Please… I want you to make me feel… make me feel helpless.”  
  
“Oh, is that so?” DiMA crooned, his eyes glistening with a strange kind of desire.  
  
Nick nodded once more, averting his gaze. He felt DiMA’s hand tightening around his neck, his fingers scraping down the ragged edges of the hole there. Nick yelped in surprise as pain shot through him, feeling like he had just touched a live wire. DiMA chuckled.  
  
“So sensitive.” he teased. “I’m hardly getting started.”  
  
Those words sent another wave of desire through Nick, shaking lightly in anticipation.  
  
DiMA’s other hand grasped onto Nick’s thigh, pulling it further up, so he could hook his knees underneath him. Obviously trying to make Nick feel as prone as possible, he leered down at him, hands on either side. He was silhouetted against the light in the corner of the room; it shimmered across the many vacuum tubes adorning him.  
  
“For a hardboiled detective you’re awfully timid.” he cocked his head “But there really is no need.” He leaned in again, breath hot against Nick’s face. “Don’t you think that, over all those years of having modified myself, I haven’t learned a thing or two about the synth body?” he growled.  
  
Nick suppressed a whimper, screwing his eyes shut as DiMA placed his hot mouth against his throat, tongue dragging along the skin that remained there. Every time his lips brushed past one of the edges, Nick’s legs twitched involuntarily. He moaned, hiding his eyes beneath his arms again. But DiMA had a different idea. His left hand shot up, pinning both of Nick’s arms above him, forcing him to look him in the eye. If synths could blush, Nick probably couldn’t get any redder.  
  
He returned his attention to his neck, his other hand now curling behind his ear again, roughly scratching down the edges, dragging forth another whine from the depth’s of Nick’s larynx.  
  
The younger synth bit down on his own lip, hard; his eyes shut so tightly he could see a kind of static, analogous to humans seeing stars.  
  
DiMA’s breaths came short and hot where Nick was most vulnerable, the saliva coating his skin prickling against the ambient temperature of the room. DiMA drew his tongue against the ragged edges directly now, Nick’s body tensing and squirming beneath him. This wasn’t unlike what they had done before, but the added anticipation of danger sent Nick reeling.  
  
DiMA chuckled into his neck, not saying a word as he licked right underneath Nick’s chin, before nipping there with his teeth. Nick gasped, the sharp little pain making the transistors in his head fizzle.  
  
DiMA’s hand now moved down to the gap, figuring he had teased poor Nick for long enough. He squeezed his hips a little harder against his as he slipped his fingers inside, expertly finding his way through the cables and actuators until he found what was, essentially, Nick’s spine.  
  
The first touch elicited a violent reaction. Nick bucked his hips involuntarily, rutting up against DiMA as he groaned languidly. Arousal was coiling in the pit of his stomach like a tightening spring.  
  
DiMA let him savour that moment, agonizingly slow in his movements. Desperation filled Nick’s gaze as he tried to urge him on, a trickle of saliva running down his chin. DiMA pressed his lips against his, their kiss wet this time, tongues lapping. His fingers coiled around the back of his spine, the cables giving way, before he finally tightened his fist. Nick breathed in sharply through his nose before moaning into DiMA’s mouth, but the latter didn't allow him to break away. He forced his head down into the pillow, putting his full weight on the other synth now, allowing him almost no room to roll his hips.  
  
His other hand, almost fully metal, was digging into Nick’s wrists, small pangs of pain hardly enough to distract from the pleasure DiMA was giving him.  
  
He groaned, twisting his head away from him. “Is that all you got?” Nick said threateningly, looking at him from the corner of his eye, the yellow piercing in the gloom.  
  
“Impatient, aren’t we?” DiMA said calmly, biting down on the edge of his neck. Nick whimpered in pain, but the sound quickly dissolved into a moan of pleasure. DiMA’s hand now started squeezing rhythmically, knowing just what pressure to apply. Nick’s breaths quickened, the sounds coming from him something only DiMA would be privy to.  
  
Then suddenly, his hand tightened slightly too hard, and he held it in place. Nick squirmed, yelping, white hot pain burning through every fibre of his body. It was intense and lasting, even when DiMA’s grip slackened. He relaxed back into the sheets, chest heaving laboriously underneath the other synth’s immense weight.  
  
“Close enough, little brother?” DiMA said maliciously, but still with that everlasting composure.  
  
“D-don’t call me t-” Nick began, but was cut short by another wave of searing pain, cutting straight through the core of his being.  
  
“Oh, I’m sorry, what was that?” DiMA smirked.  
  
Nick rocked his hips, the desired friction so close, yet so far away. “I.. I’m not-… raaagh!” he howled, DiMA’s fist clenching harder than ever before, pushing him into the mattress with outstretched arm.  
  
“What are you trying to say? Can’t take any more than that, _detective?_ ”  
  
Nick struggled, trying to twist away, but it was no use. As soon as the electric pain had come, it was gone again.  
  
“Haah… hah...” Nick gasped. “I can take it.” he looked up at DiMA defiantly, his lust painted so clearly in his eyes that DiMA knew he was doing this right.  
  
A sudden warmth spread through his gut, and he let go of Nick’s wrists. He leaned in more gently this time, his free hand trailing around Nick’s thigh again, cupping his ass has he rocked his hips, simulating that all-too-human sensation for Nick.  
  
He kissed his neck, making Nick quiver weakly, almost too pleasant after the waning soreness. Nick didn’t complain, wrapping his arms around DiMA’s back once more, holding him close.  
  
He crossed his legs over DiMA’s hips, letting him find purchase with every thrust, squeezing up against the sensitive edge of the panels.  
  
DiMA’s other hand moved slightly up inside Nick’s neck, knowing that this segment of the spine was less susceptible to pain response. He tightened his grip steadily, drawing moan after moan to Nick’s lips.  
  
The spring in his gut tightened until he couldn’t hold it for much longer, the rocking of their movements, the closeness, DiMA’s steadfast fingers inside of him… it was too much.  
  
DiMA knew Nick was getting close, picking up the pace and pressing his lips against his throat once more, kissing and nipping in turn.  
  
“DiMA...” Nick cried, throwing his head back and clenching his jaw. The other synth didn’t let up, slamming his hips into Nick’s a few drawn out times before pressing down as hard as he could, pinning him as his fingers worked his insides, hand clenching firmly as he _felt_ Nick slip over the edge. His whole body heaved as he came, his orgasm crashing down around him. White hot electricity erupted in his gut and groin, travelling down every nerve, every limb, even down to his fingertips.  
  
He moaned the whole time, tense and rolling his hips with every wave of pleasure, slowing down as the feeling ebbed away after and high that felt like an eternity. He was left a shaking, exhausted mess, relaxing completely now.  
  
After a few moments, only their breaths resounding in the quiet room, he let out a quiet chuckle. It was a sound of both disbelief and contentedness, mostly saying something along the lines of: _wow I feel silly_ . He dared to look DiMA into his eyes now, a broad smile on his face, but also a hint of embarrassment.  
  
“I, uh, thanks… for that.”  
  
“Don’t thank me.” DiMA smiled back at him, placing his forehead against Nick’s. The loving gesture made Nick’s non-existent heart flutter.  
  
“I’m sorry I haven’t returned the favor… I mean, I still can.” Nick said, stroking DiMA with the backs of his hands.  
  
“That’s quite alright.” DiMA said, his voice almost a whisper. “Most of my pleasure comes from watching you writhe beneath me.” he grinned, causing another flutter in Nick’s chest, that tail-end of lust still simmering.

“You can help me out soon though, don’t you worry.” DiMA kissed his neck once more before he kneeled up, looking down with that expression of… what was it? _Adoration_ ?  
  
Nick, through half-lidded eyes, gazed up at him, tilting his head back ever so slightly as he smiled warmly. “You… you look so alluring in this light.” he admitted, having no idea why he felt the need to say that.  
  
“What, me, alluring?” DiMA said, mildly self-deprecating. “I thought your sense of attraction wouldn’t have changed, having a human mind. I thought you’d find yourself mostly attract to… well… humans.”  
  
Nick slowly shook his head, the smile not leaving his face. “It’s taken me a long time, sure, but over the years my… uh... preferences have worn away.” he seemed a bit awkward, but still determined to say something positive “There’s always something beautiful to be found, if you look carefully.”  
  
DiMA chuckled “Well, you have to look extra carefully at me, then.”  
  
Nick raised his undamaged hand to cradle DiMA’s cheek, his fingers curling below his chin. DiMA relaxed into the caress, lidding his eyes, only a mere glint of those icy pupils visible now.  
  
“Nah,” Nick shook his head lightly, the flutters in his chest reaching a certain crescendo “In you, I saw it immediately.”


End file.
